The Girl of Nonexistence
by Randomnormality
Summary: After the news of her dear friend, Dean Winchester, dying, Quinn returns to the only place she calls home, only to be pulled into a quest to stop the Apocalypse. Cas/OC romance later in chapters, Rated M for language, sexual references and violence
1. Prologue: The Pact

**The Girl of Nonexistence**

**Summary:**

She isn't a Hunter, but an Informant, or researcher. She doesn't go looking for things that go bump in the night, she studies and learns all she can about them. She doesn't kill, for she is a pacifist, if at all by nature. She doesn't fight, but will hoist a weapon to defend those weaker than she, or for the sake of self-preservation. She is calm in the face of an adversary, but is filled with a torrent of emotional distress around those close to her heart.

Her name is Quinn. Just Quinn. No last name, because even she doesn't know of one. She is a rather ordinary girl, that has an extraordinary secret that only two people know of.

The death of her best, and only, friend sends her back to the only place she's ever called home. Her friend's sudden resurrection sends her on a quest to stop the pending Apocalypse. Getting mixed up in a pissing contest between Heaven and Hell, Quinn is finding it difficult to keep her secret.

Especially with the openly curious Angel of Thursday hanging around her friend.

**Author's Note:**

This story is a Cas/OC romance, with a dash of an extremely close Dean/OC friendship. Quinn's relationship with Sam will be slow building, and in the beginning only tolerant due to him being Dean's younger brother, but it will slowly grow as the story progresses. I plan on making her secret a secret even to you readers out there. I want to see if people can figure her out while reading the story. Kind of like how Supernatural does in the series...keeping things hidden, but small key factors that eventually pull together. This story obviously starts off in Season Four and will continue through Season Five...maybe progress even further.

I would appreciate it greatly if you readers take the time to review, or favorite the story. I like to know what the readers are thinking, and generally I take the time to individually thank and respond to everyone's review. I do take constructive criticism, but flames will not be tolerated. If you don't like the story at all, keep it to yourself and don't read it. If you feel as though something needs pointed out, I welcome it greatly, as I enjoy improving my writing skills. Most of the stories I do are in First Person, but for the sake of future chapters (references to episodes like 'The End' and such others), this story will be in Third Person.

Thank you for taking the time to read! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own Supernatural. If I did, we'd see more 'humanized' Cas ('Hippie' Cas is probably one of my more favorable moments because I couldn't stop laughing).**

* * *

**Prologue**  
_The Pact_

* * *

If anyone ever asked how Quinn and Dean Winchester became such close friends, they wouldn't believe the story. In fact, their meeting had been quite anti-climatic at best. He didn't swoop in and save her from the terrible monsters that go bump in the night. She didn't bury her way past his pseudo-bad boy masquerade with one glance. In fact, it all started like most friendships.

Sitting in an old, well-used leather chair, a young ebony-haired woman flips through the pages of a brand new book, the script and text an old Celtic language lost to most people nowadays. Her steel-grey eyes move through the words as leather-clad fingers grip a pen, the tip of the pen scratching quick, small-font translations to the paper. Ear-bud headphones from her MP3 player plugged her ears, softly blaring Guns N' Roses' 'November Rain' as she gets lost in the book.

The only thing that breaks her of her focus, is the sight of boot-clad feet pausing next to her seated form, and a mug of freshly brewed coffee is placed on the desk next to her. Completing the last line of translations, her gloved hand moves to grab the mug when she notices a second set of boot-clad feet just behind the other pair. Her concentration is broken and she pulls her gaze up to find her guardian, Bobby Singer, standing just a foot away. Upon seeing the younger man standing behind Bobby, she gently pulls her headphones from her ears.

"Hey, what's up?" she greets, her grey eyes taking in the younger man's appearance though she directs her question to Bobby.

His dark-brown hair is cropped short and left unkempt, as if he didn't take time out of his day to run a brush through it. His entire posture reads off intimidating waves, and if it wasn't for the slightest hint of curiosity flickering in his brilliantly green eyes, she would have felt nervous. His face is round, though a strong jaw line and slightly pronounced cheekbones seems to shape it in an attractive flare. A heavy leather jacket is pulled over two other layers of shirts, one a button-down shirt left open and displaying an all-black AC/DC shirt underneath. His blue denim jeans carried small rips and tears and were obviously well-worn, the bottom hem of his pant legs covering the tops of old, sturdy work boots.

"This is Dean, John Winchester's oldest," Bobby states, motioning toward the younger man, "Dean, this is Quinn."

A small, short silence falls over the room and Quinn realizes this Dean guy is assessing her as well, so in order to break the awkward tension, her pale-pink lips tug into a small, delicate smile, "It's nice to meet you, Dean."

She receives a stiff nod in return and is mildly amused when she realizes he can't figure her out yet, so she turns to Bobby, "Well, I have over half of the book translated. It seems to surround Celtic rituals performed on the night of All Hollow's Eve by the Scottish colonies during the mid-evil days."

"I gave you that book six hours ago, girl," Bobby retorts in his usual gruff display of masculinity.

Quinn's smile brightens slightly, despite Dean being in the room, "It's not like I was going to get any sleep. I figured I'd get a head start on it. I should have it finished by tonight."

Bobby shakes his head as Quinn finally takes a sip of her coffee, her taste buds registering the familiar flavor of the light amber substance of Jameson, "Spiking my drink so early in the morning?"

A snort sounds from Bobby, who mutters an inaudible response to her teasing before he returns to the kitchen. Unsure of what to say to the guy, most likely around her own age, she turns her attention back to the text.

"So, are you a Hunter too?" the husky tone of his voice pulls her attention after she manages to make it half way down the page.

Glancing up at Dean, she offers him a small smile at the slight awkwardness in his stance, "Nope. I work as a researcher and informant for Bobby."

His green eyes flashes with surprise, "You can't be any older than me. How is that possible?"

"I tested out of schooling when I was thirteen," His eyes widen slightly at her response, "My IQ is at a genius level of 154 and I have a photographic memory."

"So...you're like a super genius?" he quips curiously.

Quinn giggles at his wording, "I'm not Einstein, but generally speaking, yes."

"So, how did you get roped into the Hunting business? Family?" he asks, wondering how a girl like her would get pulled into the same world he was in.

Shrugging, Quinn tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, "Sort of. Bobby is the only person I can consider family," She isn't sure why, but the blatant curiosity in his green eyes causes her to explain further, "My mother was passing through, not sure where she was heading, but from what Bobby tells me, there had been an awful storm. Tornado warnings and everything. My mother's car broke down a mile from here. Bobby offered her sanctuary and four hours later, I was born," Again, surprise sparks his gaze, "Something must have gone wrong, because she died twenty minutes later."

Dean's eyes soften with sympathy. Quinn feels slightly better at his given sympathy, thankful that it wasn't a look of pity. Quinn shrugs briefly, shaking her head of the torrent of thoughts of a mother she can't remember, "Bobby tried to find any relatives. The only information he could get was on my mother's side of the family. My grandfather died a few years prior, and my grandmother had reached the second stage of Dementia. He just...kind of kept me."

"I've never met you before," Dean comments, a slight tilt of his head reminding her of a curious kitten and she bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing at the reference, "I've known Bobby practically my entire life. I'm sure I would have met you before now."

"After I tested out of school, I attended a boarding school in Europe as a ruse for collecting information and texts for Bobby," she says as she motions to the various leather-bound books.

Dean snorts good-naturedly, "I had always wondered how he got these things. He rarely leaves his own _house_, let alone the country."

Quinn can't help but giggle at his words and a genuine grin appears on his face. She returns the smile with one of her own, finding the humor in his features to be infectious. Standing from his seat, Dean mentions going to talk with Bobby, and Quinn shakes her head before turning her attention back to the text.

Later that day, the sun began its descent beneath the horizon, the trio find themselves sitting at the table in the kitchen. Quinn had offered to make dinner since Dean had traveled all the way there, and Dean instantly requested double bacon cheeseburgers; double on the bacon. Quinn giggles as she watches Dean polish off his second burger and take the time to sip from her beer.

"That's was delicious," Dean praises, flashing Quinn a wide grin as he pats his stomach jokingly.

"Quinn, I wanted to talk to you about joining Dean on his travels," Bobby's suggestion causes Quinn's gaze to snap in his direction, "We both know you are going to end up get restless hanging around here, and Dean could use some help with research."

Quinn looks down at her gloved hands, curious thoughts causing a whirlwind in her head as they turn inward, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"He'll do all the Hunting, and you can sit back and do research."

Thinking over the idea, Quinn nods reluctantly, "If you think it's for the best. I wouldn't mind a road trip."

For the next two and a half years, Quinn and Dean spend their time taking our paranormal entities and witches. The awkwardness in the beginning faded as the two grew close and learned more about each other. They shared common factors; their taste in music, their restlessness of staying in one area for an extensive amount of time, and their celebratory shots at a bar after each successful hunt.

* * *

"Hey."

The husky voice pulls the steel-grey eyes from the starlit sky, Quinn turning to look at her companion. Dean, now twenty-four years old, slides up on the hood of the Impala, giving her a small, saddened smile. She knew this isn't any easier on him than it is on her and she manages a weak smile of her own.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his green eyes somber, but understanding.

Quinn nods, swallowing thickly, "I need to find a way to fix this. I need to learn how to control this curse before I lose myself."

The silence that falls over them is broken shortly after, Dean turning his gaze up at the stars, "You will come back, right?"

Quinn flashes him a watery smile, "Like I can stay away. Hey, Dean?" Dean glances over at her curiously, "Can you promise me something?" Seeing the nod, she inhales deeply, "If there's ever a time, where I can't recognize reality from fantasy, can you do me a favor and put a bullet in my head?"

Dean chokes on the air in his lungs, "You can't make me promise something like that!"

Her eyes tear up, but she blinks them back, trying not to break down, "Please, Dean. I don't want to end up in a psych ward, or worse. Please."

Dean muses over the idea, before sighing, "Okay. If I agree to this, you have to agree to my end of this bargain," She nods tentatively, "No Hunting," Her eyes widen at his words, and he smiles sadly at her response, "We both know what it does to you, and I can't stand seeing you in pain."

"What if I'm protecting someone, or myself?"

"As long as you don't go looking for it," he compromises.

Both of them slide off of the hood as a bus begins to draw near. As it is in the life they live, deals are sealed with a kiss, and Quinn places a gloved hand on his cheek. Pulling herself up to the tips of her toes, she places a small, friendly kiss on his lips. The sorrow swirling within her core becomes too much and the tears she fought so hard to keep back escape. Embracing her dear friend, she feels him place a kiss on the top her head. Pulling back, she gives him a watery grin as he lifts the hood to her duster jacket and pulls it up and over the top of her head, casting a shadow over her face.

"Until we meet again, Bright-Eyes."

"Until then, Tiger."

A saddened chuckle leaves his lips, "You're never going to let that nickname go, are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Lifting her bag over her shoulder, she gives him a weak smile before climbing onto the bus.

Neither of them know it won't be another two, almost three, years until Quinn receives a phone call from Bobby telling her, her friend is dead, effectively bringing her home.

No one is ready for what follows.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. For those who might ask, the nickname Tiger is in referenced from Dean rocking out to 'Eye of the Tiger' (I figure he's the type to do it more than once). Please leave a review and let me know what you think so far. The next chapter will probably be up tomorrow night.**


	2. Chapter One: The Daughter of None

**The Girl of Nonexistence**

**Summary:**

She isn't a Hunter, but an Informant, or researcher. She doesn't go looking for things that go bump in the night, she studies and learns all she can about them. She doesn't kill, for she is a pacifist, if at all by nature. She doesn't fight, but will hoist a weapon to defend those weaker than she, or for the sake of self-preservation. She is calm in the face of an adversary, but is filled with a torrent of emotional distress around those close to her heart.

Her name is Quinn. Just Quinn. No last name, because even she doesn't know of one. She is a rather ordinary girl, that has an extraordinary secret that only two people know of.

The death of her best, and only, friend sends her back to the only place she's ever called home. Her friend's sudden resurrection sends her on a quest to stop the pending Apocalypse. Getting mixed up in a pissing contest between Heaven and Hell, Quinn is finding it difficult to keep her secret.

Especially with the openly curious Angel of Thursday hanging around her friend.

**Author's Note:**

This story is a Cas/OC romance, with a dash of an extremely close Dean/OC friendship. Quinn's relationship with Sam will be slow building, and in the beginning only tolerant due to him being Dean's younger brother, but it will slowly grow as the story progresses. I plan on making her secret a secret even to you readers out there. I want to see if people can figure her out while reading the story. Kind of like how Supernatural does in the series...keeping things hidden, but small key factors that eventually pull together. This story obviously starts off in Season Four and will continue through Season Five...maybe progress even further.

I would appreciate it greatly if you readers take the time to review, or favorite the story. I like to know what the readers are thinking, and generally I take the time to individually thank and respond to everyone's review. I do take constructive criticism, but flames will not be tolerated. If you don't like the story at all, keep it to yourself and don't read it. If you feel as though something needs pointed out, I welcome it greatly, as I enjoy improving my writing skills. Most of the stories I do are in First Person, but for the sake of future chapters (references to episodes like 'The End' and such others), this story will be in Third Person.

Thank you for taking the time to read! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own Supernatural. If I did, we'd see more 'humanized' Cas ('Hippie' Cas is probably one of my more favorable moments because I couldn't stop laughing).**

**Episode: Lazarus Rising!**

* * *

**Chapter One**  
_The Daughter of None_

* * *

Dean isn't sure how he escaped the Pit. He isn't sure what pulled him out, or even why they did. He isn't sure how to respond to the obvious grief displayed by those near to his heart; Bobby's sudden turn toward the bottle and Sam even contemplating on making a deal. He isn't sure of a lot of things at the present moment, but he is definitely sure of one thing.

They were only two hours away from a psychic's house, who frequently helps Bobby. With that knowledge alone, Dean can't figure out why Bobby's car pulls into the parking lot of a diner, the '67 Chevy Impala following only seconds later. Sharing a confused glance with his younger brother, Dean turns off the car and climbs out, Sam quickly moving to fall in step with him as the two brothers make their way over to Bobby.

"Dude, Bobby, we only have two hours of travel left. There's no need to stop for food," Dean comments, not expecting Bobby to extend a small slip of paper, "What the hell is this?"

"There's an address there. Go. There is something you are going to need to pick up before we head to my friend's place. Sam and I will get us a table," Bobby instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Is it important?"

"I'd like to think so," Bobby responds to Sam's question curtly, waving Dean off, "Go, ya' idjit."

Dean shakes off the confusion before making his way to the car. Sliding back behind the wheel of his baby and glancing at the slip of paper, Dean feels his eyebrows cock in confusion. _Memorial Park._ Shrugging off his confusion, Dean pulls out of the parking lot and begins his search of the town's local park. The park itself isn't that impressive. In fact, it's rather small, but relatively quiet. Climbing back out of his car, he pauses beneath the patio area, green eyes taking in every inch of the surrounding area. His inward curses toward Bobby's wild goose chase cuts off at the sight of a lone figure sitting beneath the shade of a tree.

An odd lump forms in his throat at the sight of the familiar posture. The familiar hooded duster jacket causes the smallest grain of hope to cement within his core. He isn't sure how long he stands there, staring at the figure in shock, before his legs begin pulling him closer. Pausing a foot away, his observant gaze takes in the sudden tension along slim shoulders as the petite figure seems to prepare for a confrontation.

"If you are attempting to throw pick-up lines, I suggest you turn on heel and walk away."

The familiar calm, placid tone washes over his senses and he can't stop the wide, genuine grin that spreads across his lips, "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me, Bright-Eyes."

The hood of the jacket falls back as the figure's head snaps up, steel-grey eyes widening with shock. Dean watches in mild amusement as the young woman scrambles to her feet, putting a few steps more between their distance, her back flat against the tree. Instantly, Dean explains Bobby already checking him out, and even goes so far as to pull a silver knife and cut a shallow laceration along his arm. The moment the blade is put away, Dean finds himself stumbling back as the petite build of Quinn slams into him in full force, her arms wrapping around his waist.

"I take it you missed me?" Dean teases as he allows himself to forgo his devil-may-care persona as he hooks his arms around the back of her shoulders, pulling her frame flush against his.

Nuzzling her forehead against his chest, her shoulders shudder with silent sobs, "D-Don't even joke. Y-You have no idea."

Dean drops a friendly kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the familiar scent of sandalwood and lavender, "We aren't sure how I managed to get out."

"At this point, I could care less," Quinn's reply is muffled by the fabric of his shirt, before she pulls her face away from his chest, sniffling slightly as her steel-grey eyes gleam with held-back tears, "I could care less who brought you back. I'm just forever thankful they did."

Picking up the book lying on the leaf-covered ground, Dean stands upright and flashes her a grin. Throwing an arm over her shoulders, he leads her to the Impala. Nothing else is said between them. Nothing else is needed. For the first time since he returned, Dean finds himself a small slice of peace as the ebony-haired woman slides into the passenger seat of the Impala.

* * *

Sam Winchester may not agree with his older brother on many points in life. He may have wanted to escape the life they lived. He may not understand the logic behind anything his brother does most of the time. Sam Winchester knows who his brother is, despite all of this. Dean Winchester is a Hunter, plain and simple. He lives for the next Hunt. He runs from the idea of an 'apple-pie' life. He loves-and-leaves, and most would never believe him to have a sense of morale.

The laughter of his old brother greets both Sam and Bobby before the door to diner opens, revealing an oddly ecstatic Dean entering the room. Standing to greet his brother, Sam's words catch in his throat at the sight of the ebony-haired woman being pulled behind him. Her grey-silver eyes peers over the diner before they settle on him and the youngest of the two brothers tenses at the blank stare.

"Who is this? I thought Bobby sent you to pick up something important?" Sam questions.

Dean chuckles, tossing an arm over the woman's shoulders, "Oh, this is definitely important. Sam, this is Quinn. Bright-Eyes, this is Sam, my little brother. I'm actually surprised you haven't met yet."

Sam watches as the woman turns her gaze on his brother, "I've only been back a little over a month. I didn't receive message of your...death until a few days before that."

"Why? Hanging around a Convent?" Dean teases.

"Buddhist Monastery actually," Quinn deadpans, causing Dean to chuckle as he steps away from her and shrugs off his jacket, taking a seat in the empty booth.

"Buddhist Monasteries don't allow women into their sanctuary," Sam points out, watching as the young woman slips into the seat next to his brother.

Quinn glances away for a brief moment, a small twitch of her lips breaking her blank features, "I may, or may not, have inferred that I was conducting a serious, in-depth research on various religious ideals in order to do a generalized comparison between Eastern and Western belief systems."

Dean snorts in good-nature, "You always did have a way with talking yourself into places."

Sam remains silent, watching as Quinn greets Bobby with a small smile and softly spoken words. Who is she? Since when did his brother do girlfriends? He had never seen his brother this close to someone without them being considered family. Sam admits to himself that the young woman is, in fact, beautiful, so it's no wonder how she caught his brother's eyes. What is it about her that makes Dean so happy?

"Stop it," Sam feels confused as Dean nudges Quinn, who flashes him a small grin.

As the waitress pauses at their table for their food order, Quinn is motioned to go first, "Um. I will have a bacon cheeseburger, double the bacon, no tomatoes or pickles. I'd prefer the fries to be unsalted if you can, if not, don't worry about it. I'd also take a rum and coke, in a tall glass if you don't mind."

Sam blinks at the girl's order, Dean's chuckles greeting his ears as his brother throws an arm around the back of the booth, "You know what, I'll have the same as her, but you can salt the fries."

Sam shakes himself out of his confusion as he orders himself a salad, and a cold beer. Once the waitress is gone after taking Bobby's order, Quinn softly asks what's going on and why they are in the area. Bobby doesn't hesitate in explaining the situation, which again strikes Sam as odd.

Who is this girl?

* * *

"Hey, Sammy, you mind if Bright-Eyes takes shotgun?" Dean asks, his arm thrown over Quinn's shoulders as they exit the diner.

Quinn watches as Sam shakes his head, "No. I figured if she was going to join us, I was going to offer the front seat."

Glancing over the tallest of the two brothers, Quinn manages to give him a gentle smile, "Thank you, Sam."

"So, Bright-Eyes, what else have you been up to in the past few years?" Dean asks as they follow Bobby down the road.

"I decided to stick around Asia. Taiwan, India, Russia, Japan, Malaysia, all over China and small islands in the Western Pacific," she replies, shrugging at the idea.

"What could have possibly taken you to Japan?" the oldest of the two brothers asks.

Quinn gives him a blank look, "I wanted to go."

"You haven't been Hunting anything, have you?" Dean questions, looking away from the road to glance at her.

She shakes her head, "Nope. You know me. I hand you guys information and what not, and you do all the muscle work."

"Do you have any idea what might have pulled him from the Pit?" Sam asks, realizing Quinn plays as an informant instead of a Hunter.

"From what you guys tell me, it's nothing I've read about," she responds, hooking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You said you've heard a ear-piercing noise, like a dog whistle for humans?" Dean nods with a grunt, "Hm...Maybe this psychic will figure it out?"

* * *

Quinn sighs as she sprawls across the back seat of Bobby's car, her thoughts running a mile a minute. What creature has the ability to burn someone's eyes out? Not like the Blood Mary legend, where she scratches them from your skull, but literally burns them. What creature removes the ability to see or hear? Quinn hates not knowing. It makes her restless and paranoid. What if Dean had been pulled from the Pit for a different reason? What if the creature that did it, didn't do it for noble intentions? She ignores Dean and Bobby speaking of trying to summon whatever it is that brought Dean from the Pit. How could she not have information on any of this?

Finding a reasonable location, she helps Bobby set up the various traps, hoping that one of them might trigger once the creature arrives. The wait alone is obviously getting to Dean just as much as it is to Bobby. When the old building they are using starts to rumble and shake, Quinn moves herself behind the two men as they get ready for whatever is coming. Quinn swallows at the bile that rises in her throat as a dark-haired man makes his way into the room, never once stopping as Dean and Bobby unload a few rounds into his chest. His abnormally blue eyes turn on Dean, who grips the demon knife behind his back.

"Who are you?"

"I am the one that gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition," the newcomer's deep, scratchy voice states in a calm tone.

Even as Dean slams the knife into the man's chest, which seems to do nothing more than agitate him briefly, Quinn realizes something. She's felt this presence before. Where? When? She can't say, but she remembers feeling this same sense of calm in the air. A small squeak of fear sounds as the man presses two fingers to Bobby's forehead, and her surrogate father crashes to the ground. The noise Quinn made seems to catch this man's attention, tension falling along her entire body as he makes to move toward her. Dean is quick to step between the trench-coat wearing man and his friend.

"Don't touch her," Dean sneers, green eyes burning with anger.

"We need to talk, Dean. Alone," Quinn fights the urge to twitch as those blue eyes turn on her briefly.

"Anything you have to say, you can say in front of her," Dean argues as he moves to inspect Bobby's unconscious form.

"Your friend is alive."

"Who are you?"

"Castiel," the man responds curtly, his nimble fingers flipping through the pages of a bible.

"Yeah, I figured that much. I mean, what are you?" Dean practically growls, every instinct screaming at him to gank the man before him.

The man turns his attention to Dean, his stoic features causing Quinn's heart to jump in her throat, "I am an Angel of the Lord."

Dean slowly stands to his feet, Quinn choosing to stay by the unconscious form of her surrogate father, "Get the hell outta here. There's no such thing."

The man turns completely toward Dean, a slim gleam of arrogance in his blue eyes, "This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith."

Both the Hunter and his close friend watch wide-eyed as lightning crackles in the sky, the blackened shadows of angelic wings splaying behind the man along the wall. The warehouse falls into shadows once again, but Dean seems to be anything but forgiving.

"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes," Quinn glances at her friend from the corner of her eye before turning her attention back to Castiel, as her job is to research and understand everything about any supernatural creatures.

"I warned her not to spy on my true form," Quinn recognizes the small flicker of resentment as the angel steps forward, "It can be overwhelming to humans. So can my real voice, but you already knew that."

"You mean the gas station and the motel?" Castiel nods in turn, "That was you talking?" Once again, the angel nods curtly, "Next time, lower the volume."

"It was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong," Castiel explains and Quinn pieces the information in the back of her mind for later use.

"What visage are you in now? A holy tax accountant?"

Quinn bites back her amusement as Castiel motions toward his clothes, "This, this is my vessel."

"You're possessing some poor bastard?"

"He's a devout man. He actually prayed for this," Castiel insists.

"Look man, I'm not buying what you're selling. So, who are you really?"

Castiel looks confused, and moderately offended, "I told you."

"Right. Why would an angel, rescue me from Hell?" Dean asks, the self-deprecation in his tone pulling his friend's attention away from the angel.

Something isn't right with Dean. Quinn puts the piece of information in the back of her mind for later as the angel steps closer to Dean. Even Quinn could see Dean's discomfort, whether it is from the close proximity or the searching stare of those blue eyes, Quinn isn't sure.

"Good things do happen, Dean."

"Not in my experience."

Castiel's brows furrow together and Quinn finds the small tilt of his head reminding her of a curious kitten, "What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved."

Dean doesn't answer the question, "Why'd you do it?"

Castiel's curiosity is replaced with a stern look, "Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."

Quinn blinks, Dean jumping in shock as the man seems to just disappear from the area. Quinn says nothing to her friend, knowing now would not be the best time. Dean helps her pull Bobby up and together, the two place him along the back seat of his car. Dean wordlessly slides behind the steering wheel while Quinn takes up the passenger seat. Silence fills the car as Dean begins the long drive to Bobby's place.

"Dean," Quinn murmurs, receiving a grunt in return, "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course I do, Bright-Eyes."

"So...angels, huh?" Quinn receives a wordless nod in turn, "Well...I'll start pulling together whatever information I can find."

Silence fills the car once more and Quinn knows to leave Dean alone to brood. Turning her gaze out the window, she leans her head against the window and closes her eyes. Drifting off into a gentle slumber, she finds herself sitting on the hood of the Impala, the starlit heavens above her head.

"Who are you?" a scratchy voice asks, a small tone of curiosity tainting the words.

Quinn turns to see the trench-coat wearing vessel of the angel, "I'm not sure why it matters."

"There has never been word of a female among the Winchesters," Castiel comments, his head tilting as he stares at her, assessing for an answer to his question.

"Oh, I'm no one important. Just an old friend of Dean's," she answers, a small bout of nerves tingling along her body.

"Your voice," he murmurs, recognition flickering in his blue eyes, "You prayed for Dean's soul."

Quinn flushes slightly at the disbelief tainting the stated words, "I wasn't aware all angels hear prayers."

"I am the Angel of Thursday. Prayers said on Thursdays are given to me," Quinn nods in understanding, "Strange. A woman with a lack of faith, yet you pray."

"I don't have a lack of faith," Quinn argues, her grey-silver eyes gleaming gently, "I do not hold value in any modern religions. Throughout countless civilizations, religions based around a central God, or ones based on multiple Gods and Goddesses, have come and gone. The beliefs in those beings, that is something hard to shake."

Quinn blushes at the obvious surprise in Castiel's gaze, so she turns her eyes toward the skies of her dream world, "If superior beings, such as Gods, exist, they only receive their power by the amount of believers in their names. So, yes, I believe there is a God, but do I believe _your_ God is the true one? I'm not sure. I might never be sure."

"You are a rather strange human. May I...inquire as to what your name is?"

"Quinn," Realizing Castiel is waiting for her to continue, she smiles sadly, "Just Quinn. I carry no family name. Never have, and I most likely never will."

"Well, Quinn. I hope, with you by his side, Dean will succeed in the tasks yet to come."

Quinn watches as his visage fades from her world and once again turns her gaze toward the heavens. She knows deep within her heart that she will always side with Dean, their ideals and view points in life so similar. She will make sure he succeeds.

Maybe not in the standards of the angels, but Dean will succeed in whatever they're going to throw at him.

And she will stand by him, through it all.

* * *

**That's it for this chapter. Thanks to those who chose to Follow my story. I often refer to you guys as Minions, so if you see me thanking Minions, it's those that choose to follow the story.**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: I didn't know you were interested in Supernatural, but I'm glad you have enjoyed it so far.**

**Thanks again for everyone. Please do leave a review. I am trying to keep most aspects of characters canon, but it can be difficult with the way my story works. Let me know what you guys think of the story.**

**Until Next Time!**


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